Ingenuous in Spirit
by smithens
Summary: As Favourite, nonchalant, and Fantine, impatient, wait for their friends and lovers, the former shares some insight to the minds of men.
Crossposted from my AO3 account. Based on a tumblr prompt:

 _one character adjusting the other's jewelry/neck tie/etc, for the quartet girls_

* * *

April, 1815

"Still, Dahlia and Joséphine have not yet joined us!"

"That is plain to see," Favourite replied, not kindly. "They are sensible girls."

Fantine's rosy lips parted in surprise; she turned her gaze turned to the grass beneath her feet. As she did so, a lock of her golden hair came loose from its twist at the top of her head, falling to frame her face. The young one seemed not to notice, or, if she did, cared so little as not to fix it. Favourite felt a pang of irritation: what was the use of a bonnet if one only held it by the ribbons in her hand? A bonnet belonged on a head, just as stockings belonged on legs and gloves belonged on hands.

But, even if Fantine did know how to wear her bonnet, Favourite reasoned, she would still not know what to do with her hair. Such hair - curled, and long, and so comely - ought to have been bestowed upon a girl able to manage it. Decidedly, Fantine did not deserve her tresses, yet they were hers; just as Favourite deserved better than her own dark, stubbornly bland locks, yet had to occupy herself with them anyhow.

"Tholomyès told us, at two o'clock -"

The words, spoken with such hope, made Favourite laugh. "Two o'clock! Tholomyès told us!" she exclaimed, the words divided by giggles. "Yet he and my Blacheville are absent, also! How foolish you are, Fantine!" Fantine looked up again, her eyes wide, showing her teeth in a nervous smile. Favourite continued: "Dahlia and Joséphine know better than to arrive at two o'clock, my dear. Tholomyès proclaimed: two o'clock! Well, our lovers our men, they wished for us to wait, to greet them in desperation, to say, oh! we worried! and to embrace them!" She huffed. "And once more, Fantine, you have persuaded me to join you in your naivety. They will not show until half past, I am certain."

Though she had predicted her folly, and took joy in correcting it, Favourite still found a way to pity the girl. Fantine's countenance, with her mouth in an 'O' and her blue eyes slightly misty, conveyed nothing but contrition.

"I hardly knew," she murmured, then said, more audibly, "Oh! how silly I am, in my love for Félix! You must forgive me for my eagerness, Favourite, will you?"

A girl with Fantine's blind, immense devotion belonged in a convent.

If not as a preventative measure - one that would be now belated - then simply because she would be far better as a nun than as... well, anything, really, Favourite thought.

"How silly indeed!" she echoed, and forced a short laugh in lieu of answering the question. But Fantine must have thought her giggle was genuine, for she laughed, too, tossing her head back and letting out a lovely, joyous sound. Again, more of her hair came unfastened. The panging feeling in Favourite's chest was back, but no longer was it of irritation. In her head, she pushed it aside. "Sweet Fantine!" she said, imploring, reaching across the space between them to take Fantine's hand in her own.

Quickly, Fantine quieted, and she met Favourite's gaze with admiring eyes. "Yes?"

Gently, Favourite pressed Fantine's soft-skinned fingers between her hands. "You do love Tholomyès so. Let us show him; shall I fix your hair while we wait?" As she spoke, she pulled Fantine over to the garden's nearest bench, then pushed her to sit, insistent. The Blonde, as the others had taken to calling her, giggled and tilted her head forward.

Her hair was soft between Favourite's fingers as she twisted and pinned it once more, careful to style the locks in the same places Fantine had done so carelessly. At one moment her fingers brushed the skin of Fantine's neck above the collar of her pelisse; the girl laughed in the same moment. They did not speak until Favourite pulled away, satisfied with the security of her styling. "Well! I do not have a looking glass; you will simply have to trust me."

Fantine nodded, wide eyed; it was clear that she already did.

Perhaps, Favourite pondered, as she took Fantine's bonnet from her lap to put it on her head, the young one's fair looks were more deserved than she had thought. It would not do, really, for a girl so ingenuous in spirit to appear dull and homely.

She tied the ribbons of the bonnet beneath Fantine's chin and smoothed the fabric of her pelisse at her shoulders. "There," she pronounced. "Far better."

Fantine's delighted smile only grew as Favourite added, "you are quite forgiven, my dear."


End file.
